Forget Me Not (Zayn/Harry; Mpreg AU)

44 - Twists

To Anne Twist, seeing Gemma and Harry side by side is always a fascinating moment, because the two look so much like each other that an outsider would think they are siblings, especially when Harry's hair is left down to brush the tops of his shoulders. He is so ridiculously pretty and, if you squint your eyes just so, he is like the male version of Anne's own Gemma.

Being an artist, who loves doing portraits more than anything, Anne enjoys studying facial features and these two are her recent obsessions, filling her drawing pad with sketches of their identical features. Looking closely, Gemma and Harry have numerous similarities from their eyes, noses and down to the shape of their mouths. Honestly, even their mannerisms are quite the mirrors of each other. It is quite baffling to behold, and to the still yearning Anne, she feels as though there is something more to their connection to this handsome young man than just a mutual friend in Niall. She feels so close to him already, attached with a deeper bond that transcends time and space.

To her, Harry is like the son that she never had the chance to cherish.

"What have you got there, Haz?" Gemma asks, leaning forward to pluck a rusted necklace from Harry's hand. She holds it up against the light and examines it, realizing seconds later that it is a locket, a fairly old one at that.

On the sidelines, Anne is observing like a hawk, her blue eyes glued to the two. Internally, she thanks her lucky stars that it is just the three of them at home, no Niall, Robin, and Michal or other distractions, whatsoever. She has been waiting to spend some quality time with Harry ever since she laid eyes on him and his adorable baby bump, and is glad that she is having it now. Anne has such a strong, inexplicable urge to coddle Harry silly.

"As cheesy as this may sound, that's the only key to my identity," Harry explains softly, a sad smile playing on his lips. He stares as Gemma struggles to open the circular locket before reaching out to do it himself. With practiced ease, he pops the rusted thing open to reveal a withered photograph inside one of the pockets of the jewelry. "I believe that's my dad."

Come to think of it, Anne has seen only one locket in her life and the owner is her estranged former romantic partner.

"You're not sure he's your father?" Gemma asks, confused. She stares at the old photo and scrutinizes the man in it. She finds him looking quite familiar, like she has seen him before.

Harry starts telling the tale of his origin, while Anne and Gemma listen attentively, leaning close to the young man in anticipation. "I was found by Lira, the housekeeper of the Tilley family. According to her, I was only a few hours old, swaddled in a pastel yellow hospital blanket, placed in a cardboard box and thrown beside their garbage cans. She told me that if she hadn't been out to toss the trash that evening, no one would have known that I was there because I was a peaceful baby, I didn't fuss or cry a lot."

Anne's heart breaks for this young man, because only a few measly hours into the world and Harry has been abandoned in front of a stranger's house, left to rot there without a care. But, at the same time, she also feels warmth in her chest for his resilience. Harry has come so far despite life's struggles. He has grown to be such a captivating young man, respectful and so very kind. Somehow, Anne knows that throughout his life, Harry has been alone, living life without any warmth. But not anymore, Anne swears, for he is now blessed with friends and his own child, someone who shares his heart and will protect it forever.

"When Lira was granted the permission to take me in, she learned that I have been named as Harry Edward Styles and that I was born on February 1, 1994." With a duck of his head, Harry hides his teary eyes and trembling chin. He takes a couple of minutes to calm down, during which Gemma has scooted close to him and has taken his hand in comfort.

Anne, on the other hand, becomes tearful once she catches the date of Harry's birth, that fateful day effectively broke her heart in two, with no chance of repair.

Encouraged and slightly calmed, Harry continues, shouldering through the tough subject of his past. "Besides the thin blanket that they have covered me in, I was not wearing anything else, except this locket around my legs. Lira always thought that it was empty, but as I got older, I figured it all out. The picture of my dad inside the locket was on backwards."

Pausing to take a deep breath, Harry decides to wrap his story up. He closes his fist tightly around his locket. "This locket is my most prized possession, even now. It is all I have of my dad and, perhaps, of my mum as well. I don't know if I will be able to know who my parents are, but, despite everything, I love them all the same."

Meanwhile, Anne is busy connecting some dots in Harry's story, a big picture coming into her view. She shivers, feeling like a bucket of ice is dumped on her. Hurriedly, she asks, "Harry, darling, when were you born again? Sorry."

Harry's calm green eyes meet Anne's wide blue ones. "February 1, 1994, Anne," the curly haired young man responds with a small smile. "Around 6 in the morning, maybe, give or take a few hours. Why?"

Anne's heart races inside her chest. Hastily, she grabs the locket and pries it open with badly shaking hands. Inside, she stares at the face of her first love, Desmond. She drops the locket as if it burns and shakily steps back before tumbling to the carpeted floor of her living room and landing harshly on her bum.

Gemma runs to her aid. "Mum, are you hurt?" she cries, wrapping her mum in her arms.

Instead of letting her daughter pull her up, Anne stays frozen on the floor, her eyes rooted on Harry's worried face. Slowly, a hopeful expression replaces her blank one. "Actually, you're pretty accurate to the time of your birth," she murmurs, loud enough to carry to where Harry is. "I was able to push you out of my womb around 6 in the morning, after the worst fifteen hours of my life, laboring."

In realization, a choked sob rushes past Gemma's mouth. By now, she, too, is looking at Harry with wonder, her eyes red. On the other hand, the young man is looking like a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing without any sound or word.

"After holding you for a minute, they pulled you away from me to clean you up and then I lost consciousness," Anne continues, tears leaving wet tracks down her cheeks, all of which she doesn't bother wiping away. "When I woke up, you were gone along with my boyfriend."

"I don't understand," Harry implores. He picks up his locket and stares at it, trying with all his might not to succumb to his emotions and cry. "What do you m-mean?"

Anne smiles through her tears, the biggest one she has ever displayed in years. In her left, she presses a softly crying Gemma against her, while she stretches her right arm to the side, opening a place in her arms for Harry. "Honestly, what I'm trying to say is...welcome home, son."

A/N: Harry is finally home. Do you think he'll easily accept Anne and Gemma into his life?

Next update will be posted a little while later. I already have it typed out. It's quite short, like this, but it explains a lot, too. Honestly, I debated numerous times if I should post that one before this, but in the end, I decided to put this scene first. Much more dramatic and mysterious, I think.

As always, thank you.